Remember
by wowhatahotgurl
Summary: Prolouge to a much longer fanfic. During the GT saga, Vegeta remembers clips from his past that linger in his dreams. Though not revealing much, the discription of another love BESIDES Bulma comes to mind.


I do not own Dragonball or its characters. I just like putting them in my stories. It belongs to the creator Akira Toriyama. DUHH!

This is a mini story that is to go with a ssssuuuuuppppeeeeeerrr long fan fiction of mine. Tell me if you like this one and then I'll post up the super fic. PLEASE REVIEW. I need to know if I suck or not! Thanks!

Remember

It was her again. Her face appeared out of the epitome of darkness and corrupted his once blank and pointless dreams.

First, had come her eyes. Her bright, glistening, sapphire eyes that had always struck him with a human desire, with a curiosity that had took a blood churning blow to him the first time he had seen them.

Then the silky, pale gleam of her soft skin had risen from the shadows to blind all that had never faced such pureness. Her plump lips of rose and pink cheeks filled her with a glow that made the shadow that had once covered her with its blanket seem to disintegrate into a canopy of light.

Wind picked up and grazed her neck and ruffled the defined locks of blue. Her hair…her once beautiful hair had been alive again. Waves of aqua and cerulean splashed before him. And as the glossy touch slipped up the side of his cheek, he could almost smell it.

It was the vibrant smell of the sea and the foam that splashed up the sea bank and left the salty taste of her water to leave its mark in his memory forever.

Then she spoke. Even a whisper could soothe a wild beast into slumber. Her melodious tone glided up his spine and fell through the cracks of his flawed self. The tone was so innocent, so genuine. He wanted to touch it.

"Vegeta…" though faint and too delicate to rise above a whisper, she always tended to disguise even the darkest of names with an immaculate luminosity. 

With that, the ghostly whisper diminished into a single fragment of his memory and that night it would join the others where every tone of her voice was embedded for him to always remember.

"It's getting worse, Krillen…" Bulma sipped the outer edge of her tea. She looked into the depths of the murky welters and watched the leaves dance in a current. Hopefully, when she was done, they would fall into a place that would tell her something.

"Well, Bulma, if you're so worried about Vegeta, why don't you just go to the doctor like normal people and get a sleeping pill!" Krillen was barely listening to her over the blaring television that he had grown so found of during his older years.

The small man aged so much faster than she did mentally. Yet he never grew wise as she would hope he would. His dying, grey hair was only a reminder not to bother him or tell him to do things as often as when he was young. There was little comfort in her surroundings.

Bulma sighed and tried to find herself more comfortable in her armchair. With her blazing tea cup burning the skin of her fragile hands and the pillow sticking her back with a terrible annoyance, her temper was growing more feeble by the minute. 

"Krillen, you continue to misunderstand. It's not a sleeping problem. It's psychological! He has no problem getting to sleep! The second I turn the lights out, he sleeps like a log!"

Krillen rolled his eyes and flipped through the channels for the hundredth time. She stared at him like he was deaf to her every word but as his eyes scrolled through the blurring screen it was all he could do but not listen to her never resolving problems.

"It's so strange," Bulma's voice quaked and shivered a bit. Her body curled up and she shuttered once she had felt the wind of the cold night brush up against her shoulder again.

"Vegeta just tosses and turns and looks like he's dying while he's asleep. His body is drenched in a cold sweat, he pants heavily, and at times he even talks."

Krillen's lazy head perked up from the palm of his hand and his curiosity intensely sparked.

There was a slight hesitation but he had to learn. "Has he said anything in specific?" he quietly asked. His manner was humble but inside there was a burning desire to know. 

"Yes," she replied. "I was just getting to that. I've caught it once or twice from time to time. He says…well…he says this name. I think it's a woman's name but I've never heard it before so I'm not so sure."

"What is it?"

Bulma spoke it clearly and once it had released from her wetted lips she eerily felt the strange yet cool and refreshing aftertaste that clung to her tongue.

The name floated through the air for quiet some time until Krillen could grasp it.

"Hm," he thought deeply. His thoughts were intense by the roughening of his face. Krillen tried to disguise himself into deep thinking but after Bulma's experience, she could tell that he was just shocked by its eccentric sound.

"That's an interesting name," Krillen finally replied. "Where do you think he got it from"  
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Krillen looked down to the plain floor which lacked peculiarity or a delicate feel to it. The name was so mysterious and refreshing to the ear like the woman herself was whispering to the skin on one's neck seductively

Krillen took another deep breath and drew it in. What did it mean? What was going through the strange oddities of Vegeta's dreams that seemed to strike a powerful cord inside of the warrior and make him cry out in pain…or was it aspiration?

A mind racing with questions and memories tried to add up an impossible puzzle. It mocked him cynically. What things had triggered Vegeta's memories into adding up into a beautiful sum of that name?

Out of all the things he had been through with Vegeta. Nothing that beautiful ever came out of him. Never had he made something perfectly stunning.

There was nothing of it he could remember.

It was her again. It was her voice.

"I won't ever be to far away." She was farther than anything he had tried to reach.

"I'll always be right beside you." Every time he would look to his side he would see the cold emptiness.

"I'll always love you."

Before he had known her, love was an object. He could take it right out of the heart of a woman and do what he preferred. At times, he would feel the same thing. A woman would dig her fist through his chest and drive into his bloody core to snatch everything he had.

Now, love was life. Love was the breath of air that he took in the morning. It was the strength that built him and would give him courage to face the sunlight against his window. It was that spark that made his lips curl into laughter.

The 'now' he thought of was gone. 'Now' was then. The real 'now' was the guilt and pressure building its blocks against his back with every moment he wandered awake. Then, when he would drift, the before would come to back to life.

There were times were he could take that vigorous spark and float into the world that he had fantasized about. He found them in the small pieces of photographs that he held onto dearly.

The rough and crude piece of paper almost crumbled into dust while being held in his monstrous hands. The condition was nevermore important. As long as he could see the same image that appeared to him every night in his dreams he would be fine.

Her face in the photo was a temporary high for him with every gaze. They were supposed to be everything. Everything perfect that the sun shown down upon and spread its light on to make it grow in prosperity was supposed to be theirs…inside them.

"Everything is going to be perfect," she always assured him of everything that was impossible. "We'll get out of here and we'll get married and…and everything will be fine."

Nothing was fine anymore. The aftereffect of a heavy smoke kicks in after every high. A crude and vile torment that rips through the lungs always comes after.

It was his fault that things were this way. One gaze was one more reminder that guilt has a proper place on his shoulders. His decisions had gotten the best of him. There wasn't a single moment in his before life that he hadn't let take advantage of him.

He was a putrid creature to step and spit on and he was grateful for everyone that shied away or looked at him in disgust. He had found one bit of acceptance in him ever since that horrible day.

He accepted that it was his choosing that this had happened. Today, he was a monster and it was all his doing.

A tear found its way through his hard surface. So vulnerable and weak while in this state, he thought it would be shameful to even look at a picture of her.

"I let you down," he moaned in a coarse whisper. "I let myself become what I am…I'm sorry."

The sudden sound of an opening door knocked him in the back of the neck with a sharp click.

"Vegeta? Can I come in?" she called from behind an already opened door. It was another alarm, and just like he had practiced before, he slyly slid the picture into his pocket and wiped all evidence that bore itself on his face.

"Vegeta, are you all right in there?" she found the courage to barge in on him. "What the hell do you want?" he said with a terrible annoyance in his yell.

His tone was unexpected and too harsh for her to argue with at this point. She had come in at a stage where she was too shy and incapable of arguing. Deep down, she just wanted to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, but I just wanted to know if you'd like to come down for dinner. You've been up in our room from a long time."

Bulma had more nerve than Vegeta could handle at his moment of vulnerability. She walked over to him and held out her small hand as a sign for a hug or comfort.

Vegeta couldn't touch her. While she felt the sweat against his back or smelled the suspicion in his hair, she would get skeptical of him. Bulma would want to know more. She'd want to know who she is.

Vegeta dug the picture deeper into his pocket. With a strong and mighty hand, he knocked her shoulder and pushed her away till she fell against the bed post. She wasn't hurt, just startled. The way he swung her to the other side of him made her more curious. He didn't know that.

"Just leave me alone, woman! I'm coming down now! Don't you have any respect for privacy!" His voice was too loud for even himself. His eardrums shattered as they echoed against the wall and hit him right back.

Bulma never followed him. Vegeta stomped down the hall with his usual crutch of pride carrying him as tall as he wanted to be. It was all he could do from collapsing.

The pressure grew more intense and he could feel the stones of guilt throw themselves against him and tear through his weak flesh. His pride runs through his veins and starts to soothingly heal the wounds. He must keep building if it keeps trying to destroy him.

The picture remains in his pocket concealed from the rest of the world. Bulma has no right to know of his mistake. No one has the right to know.

She is for no one to know and for him to always remember.

"I will always love you…"

It was her again. She started to shred the darkness away from him and in the mean time she tore a small fragment of his chest and left the wound to painfully stand.

Vegeta could feel himself tossing and turning probably worrying Bulma to death. He couldn't stop. The only way he could stop is if he told her.

If he told Bulma about her, he'd be ruined. Everyone would find out about him. Everyone would know he was a fraud and a mistake.

They couldn't know of his troubles and understand at the same time. There was so much information to conceive and so little their tolerance could take.

For now, it was a goal and a dream he would achieve sometime in his life. One day, he would tell them; and the demon living and rambling inside his chest would spring forth and fly off into the sky where it would surly die.

At this point of the night, Vegeta lied half awake and he let his eyes wander about the room still with the lens of fantasy covering his thoughts.

Bulma sat up in her comforting bed and dared not to look at him. She wondered if he was still ashamed of lying by her side. He could smell her worry beating off of her. The feeling was cool and subtle and yet very fascinating.

That's when he realized that she was mouthing her name. Many nights he had screamed the name until he was sure his love's ears were bleeding but now were they bleeding with a yearning to know?

Vegeta saw the gliding stream of her name spring from Bulma's lips and dance through the air leaving the soft and cool essence to fade away into the night sky.

For another night, the name crawled into him dreams and was embedded for him to always remember.

Well, that's my writing. I like it, but if you think otherwise PLEASE REVIEW! Or if u just wanta give me a pat on the back (strongly recommended) PLEASE REVIEW! If you all tell me you liked it, I'll post up the super fic which reveals the NAME OF THE GIRL and what really happened in Vegeta's past. What mistakes did he make? How did he become a monster? What was he like before his unfortunate event occurred? If you PLEASE REVIEW, I will be happy to tell you.

Love yas all!

Sincerely, wowhatahotgurl 


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